


Undercover

by Denise



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 05:19:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denise/pseuds/Denise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam learns something quite eyebrow raising about her dad</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undercover

Title-  Undercover

Author- Denise

Category- angst/humor/missing scene

Season- 7

Spoilers – Evolution

Rating- PG

Content Warning-  Nothing really

Summary- Sam finds out something….shocking about her dad

Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Sci-fi and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author

Undercover

By

Denise

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I got held up," Jacob quipped, his tone light and grating on Sam's nerves.

 

She rolled her eyes, ignoring her father's guileless look. She didn't know what was worse, his cavalier attitude, or his cavalier attitude. Selmac was definitely a bad influence on him.

 

Praying that Teal'c would stay quiet, she merely stared at him, knowing that she would never hear the end of it if he found out she'd been worried. "Help me get this off," he requested and she stepped forward, taking off her pack as she went.

 

Bringing a change of clothes hadn't been part of the original plan, but rather an amendment, conceived about two minutes after he'd tried on the armor for the first time. Even ignoring the comfort part – which she thought served him right for his screwball idea – the simple clang of his boots on the concrete floor illustrated Anubis' arrogance.

 

Who needed stealth when you were invincible?

 

They ducked around a corner, with Teal'c guarding their backs. Jacob led them to a small alcove and Sam could see the rest of his armor piled in a corner, the thick metal pieces glinting dully in the dim light.

 

"What do you mean, you got held up?" She pressed as he quickly slid off the boots, his hands reaching for the side seam of the body suit.

 

"Just what I said," he insisted.

 

"Dad, if there's even a chance they suspect that we're here—"

 

"Do you honestly think I'd risk your life if there was a chance?" He interrupted, sliding his arm out of the sleeve.

 

She rolled her eyes again, simultaneously heartened and frustrated by his words. It was always nice to know your father didn't want you dead; on the other hand, her guilt was pricked by the idea that his feelings for her could compromise the mission.

 

He pulled the thick black top down and she averted her eyes, but not before catching a glimpse of his chest and the smattering of white hair that covered his skin.

 

Her father had never been a big man. He was always more wiry strength than bulky muscle. She remembered visiting him in the hospital five years ago, how she'd been struck by his frailty, shocked by the feel of bones under his skin.

 

She knew he'd put on weight during his time with the Tok'ra, and it looked like muscle too. No matter what happened, she would always owe Selmac a debt for that, for restoring him to health. "That's not the point," she said, a small perverse part of her pressing the issue.

 

"Then what is?"

 

She sighed and turned her back on him, leaning her shoulder against the wall as she crossed her arms across her chest. She shouldn't do this, shouldn't allow him to goad her into a fight. This was not the time and certainly not the place for a family squabble. "Sam?" he pressed.

 

"We need to get moving," she said, hoping to distract him. She never should have said anything. He could be like a dog with a bone—

 

"Sam?" he said. "Look, if you have misgivings—"

 

"Misgivings?" she snorted.

 

"You should have brought them up back on Earth," he continued, ignoring her interruption. His voice was muffled and she heard him fumble, hopping a bit as he sought to keep his balance.

 

"Oh please," she muttered, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice. His words annoyed her. She hadn't had a chance to voice her dislike, not without standing up in front of General Hammond and saying something to the effect of, 'Gee, I really think your plan sucks'.

 

"What?"

 

She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, taking a calming breath. "Would you just hurry up?" she pleaded, cursing herself for giving in and saying anything in the first place. She held out the fatigues behind her, resisting the urge to just drop them onto the floor and leave.

 

"Sam—"

 

Frustrated with his persistence, she spun, turning to face him. "I've got a mission to complete and if you can't do your job, then why don't you just call Bra'tac back and Teal'c and I will go blow this base," she said, narrowing her eyes and calling up her best command voice. Seven years with the colonel had taught her a lot, chief among it the ability to verbally put someone in their place--hopefully.

 

Despite her best efforts, her eyes drifted down, the unfamiliar sight of so much of her father's skin catching her off guard. Her eyes settled and widened, then she resolutely drew her eyes up, fixating them firmly above his neck, hoping to hell that the dim light would hide the color rising in her cheeks.

 

He met her gaze and they stared, both unwilling to break the contact. She stared him down for a few seconds, trying not to show any satisfaction as his expression slowly changed to one of slight bemusement and shock.

 

He nodded briefly. "Jacob will be ready momentarily, Major Carter," Selmac finally said, reaching out and taking the fatigues from her.

 

"I'll wait outside." Sam spun on her heel and strode from the alcove, ignoring Teal'c's slight frown.

 

"Major Carter?"

 

She held up her hand, silently telling him to back off.  Stepping past him she paused, running her fingers through her hair. He was as bad as Daniel. No wonder the colonel was going gray.

 

 

<><><><><> 

 

 

Sam made her way across the cargo hold, trying to ignore just how stiff she was. Finding the spot, she braced herself against the wall and slowly slid down until she was seated on the floor.

 

Cradling her injured arm in her lap, she leaned back, sighing softly as the warmth from the wall slowly sank into her sore muscles. She closed her eyes, feeling her body relax while her mind remained stubbornly aware.

 

Idly, she 'wrote' her mission report, knowing full well that 'close but no cigar' wasn't going to quite measure up to the general's expectations, but she was too tired, and too sore, to do much else.

 

Feeling a familiar tingle creep down her spine, she kept her eyes closed, contemplating whether or not she should let him know she was awake, or if she should continue to play possum.

 

She heard him pause a few feet away, then sensed him coming closer, kneeling beside her. A tentative hand brushed her neck, feather light as it explored for her pulse. She heard him sigh and get up, obviously planning to leave her alone.

 

"What's for dinner?" she asked softly as he stepped away.

 

"Sam?"

 

She slowly opened her eyes, turning her head to look at him. "What's for dinner?" she repeated, her eyes confirming what her nose had sensed, a heated MRE.

 

"Spaghetti," he said, moving closer. "Teal'c said it was your favorite."

 

"Favorite's not quite the word I would use," she said wryly, looking up at him.

 

He squatted next to her, holding the packet of food with a rather helpless look on his face. He was obviously unsure what to do, whether or not he should offer to assist her or if she could handle eating one handed.

 

She took the warm packet from him, shifting a bit to prop it between her legs. She picked up the fork, struggling to hold it in her left hand and maneuver it to her mouth. She ate a bite, not minding the familiar warm mushiness of over cooked pasta and sauce. It came nowhere near measuring up to Valentino's lasagna back in the Springs, but it was the least offensive of their meal options.

 

She managed a couple of bites,  then set the fork down, reaching instead for the canteen he also held, taking a deep drink of the tepid water. Wordlessly, he held out a couple of pills and she took them gratefully, knowing that while they wouldn't deaden the pain, they would definitely take the edge off.

 

There was nothing seriously wrong with her, at least not anymore, but she was sore, both from the blow from the Kull Warrior and from crashing into the floor of the teltac. Her shoulder had borne the brunt of it and, while her dad had healed the damage, it was likely to be a bit tender for a few days. "How's Teal'c?" She asked as she set the canteen back onto the floor, again reaching for the fork.

 

"The tretonin's working. He'll be fine in a couple of days," he said.

 

She nodded, stuffing more spaghetti into her mouth. Now that she'd started to eat, she realized just how hungry she was. "That's good."

 

He didn't respond and she glanced up, looking at him for the first time. He was staring at her, this time his eyes were soft and concerned, all hints of his prior flip attitude gone. "Dad, it's ok. I'm fine," she felt the need to reassure him. "Dad?" she repeated when he didn't respond. Abandoning her fork, she reached out her left hand, grabbing his arm. "Are you ok?"

 

His eyes widened. "How can you ask that?"

 

"What?"

 

"How the…I'm not the one that got tossed around like a tinker toy."

 

"Dad?" she asked, puzzled by his sudden burst of anger.

 

He got to his feet, staring down at her before he started to pace. "I mean is this what you do all the time?"

 

"This is my job," she said slowly, his burst of anger catching her off guard.

 

He moved until he was standing over her, forcing her to crane her neck to look up at him. "What were you thinking? You knew that your weapon would have little to no effect on him," he ranted, his tone reminiscent of her teenage years, those times when intimidation was the only real control he had left.

 

"What the hell was I supposed to do? Stand by and let him crash the ship?" she demanded, struggling to her feet, her dinner forgotten.

 

"There's an idea," he said, his anger leading him to not even realize the absurdity of his words.

 

"Dad," she protested, massively not in the mood to be lectured for simply doing her job.

 

"You must forgive your father, Major Carter," Selmac said, abruptly taking control.

 

"Selmac, I know you mean well but—"

 

"Your father was…most concerned," Selmac said, ignoring her interruption.

 

Sam sighed, her anger abating at the symbiote's simple words. "I know, and I'm sorry."

 

"You do not have anything to be sorry for, however I believe any concerns you have for your father's safety are mirrored in his concerns for you," Selmac said sincerely.

 

Not knowing what to say, Sam simply reached out and took his hand, holding it tight. They stood that way for a few seconds before she let go, making her way back over to her spot, carefully sliding down the wall. She picked up the spaghetti, not caring that it was definitely a far cry from warm.

 

"You do know that there are some perfectly good chairs in the other room?" Jacob asked after a few seconds, Selmac obviously having returned control to him.

 

"I know." She kept eating, taking a few more bites then reaching for the canteen, motioning for him to hand it to her.

 

"So…why are we lurking in the cargo hold sitting on the floor?" he asked.

 

"The wall," she said, abandoning the last few bites of the spaghetti, her hunger sated. He quirked his eyebrow. She leaned back, pressing her back against the bulkhead. "The engine's exhaust port is behind the wall. It's warm," she said, closing her eyes.

 

"Aah." He slid down and sat beside her, mimicking her position. She heard his sigh and he leaned back, stretching out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. She slowly relaxed, feeling the first tendrils of sleep tugging at her brain.

 

Memories from the day flashed through her mind and her eyes flew open. He reached out and laid his hand on her arm. "Are you ok?" he asked.

 

"Where did you get them?" she asked, turning to face him.

 

"Get what?"

 

"Your—the—I've seen my fair share of alien markets and all but I've never run across one that sells—" She broke off, wishing she could deny the color creeping up her face.

 

He quirked an eyebrow, staring at her, completely puzzled for a  few seconds before smiling knowingly. "Oh, that," he said, his tone dismissive. "I picked them up on Earth last time I was there."

 

"I know for a fact that you haven't left the SGC for months," she said. "The last time we went anywhere was Christmas."

 

"Yeah."

 

"Well, then…I mean, the base PX has some necessities of life but THOSE are definitely not on the shelf," she said, her need to solve the puzzle quashing her embarrassment about the topic.

 

He shook his head. "I haven't been to the PX since last year some time."

 

"Well, then—"

 

"Do me a favor kiddo. When one of your teammates starts complaining about his underwear disappearing, just give him your credit card and I'll pay you back."

Moderately shocked and  slightly bemused, she could only stare at him before his words truly sank in. "Who...? What…? Wait! WHOSE locker did you raid?"

 

 

~Fin~

 

 


End file.
